Zero
by Mr. Sinestro
Summary: Old, forgotten villains are found dead and someone is behind the serial dumping of homeless bodies at the dump. Is this going to lead to something more sinister? Who is behind this? Read, review, relax, and enjoy! Chapter 8 is a stand alone story.
1. Erasing the Past

Gotham City. One of the dirtiest towns on the planet. It is so dirty that the rats decided to fucking skip town. So dirty, that the Gotham mafia do most of their work out in Metropolis. I like to think of this town as an opportunity. To clean. Not clean the city with a push broom, mind you, but to clean the city of its wasteful body count. They call me the Eraser. Sure, I used to wear a stupid eraser on my head, so what? I made good money. I still do. Take this job for instance. Congressman kills about 2 hookers that were doing some…work…for him. One for the front and one for the back. But having the constituents know you have a fetish for fatal ménage à trios does not sit well with the voters. That's why I'm here. I clean it. Make sure it never happened. First the blood then the bodies. My dad once taught me that lesson once: Never leave a stone unturned. To make sure I remembered he lashed me with his belt about twenty times. That's when a straggler walks in from the bathroom, scared. I calm her and gently put her to sleep with my silencer. Every time my drunken father beat me senseless, I would weep but then my mother would come, cheer me up, and tell me that's why pencil's have erasers. It made me feel better. These murders, they never happened, like all of the other bad things in my past. Like memory. Erasing all that was wrong in my past: all my breakups, my beatings, my worries, my fears. Gone. Cleansed.

There is a reason Batman does not know I still work here. It is because my jobs are spotless. While other idiots leave their calling cards all over the place, I just close the door and walk away. But when I do, I feel I cleaned a part of myself, a part of my soul. Washing away my past, my self, and my mind. It is what keeps me sane in this insane town. I live alone, no wife, no illegitimate kids, just myself and my small apartment and some margaritas. Nothing fancy. I enjoy watching CSI whenever it comes on and laugh at how these stupid criminals leave so many things behind. They would never make it in Gotham like some of those other villains out there. The Terrible Trio. The Killer Moth. The Penny Plunderer. I feel happy with my anonymity nowadays but I wonder what they are doing sometimes. They probably have a life now. Some kids, a nice farm out West, you know, living the pristine American Dream. Not like me, of course. Sometimes I wish I can make it all right, all pristine like their lives are probably like now. I wonder if they still stick to their old names no matter how ridiculous they were. Eraser? Why did I even think of that? I shoulda been called Mr. Clean, at least I would probably get royalties.

The phone rings, another job, another paycheck. I head on over in my beat-up Oldsmobile. The apartment complex I am entering is surprisingly clean. Not a speck of dust, of grime, or mold. Everything is perfect. Room 111- the door handle does not even have any fingerprints on it. Uneasiness clogs my head. No crime is ever this clean before I come in. Then I see the blood seeping out of the apartment and know this is the right place. I enter only to see…the body of an old friend. An old rogue. The Killer Moth…only it wasn't him anymore. It was some sort of bloody mulch that used to be him. I hear a click somewhere in the darkness that pervades the room. I catch it when I see a single flick of light and know exactly what is. I'm frozen.

"You are a very rich man, Eraser. However, no matter how much money you may receive from your job and your life, to everyone else you are…worthless. You have no value in our society. Goodbye."

I stare at the barrel of the gun and I realize that this time, the first time in a long while, I will not get away clean. BLAM!


	2. The Terrible End of the Terrible Trio

2 weeks later…

A newspaper travels by like tumbleweed across the Gotham streets. The headline says: "JOKER ESCAPES ARKHAM AGAIN" However, ten pages into the front section of the paper there are obituaries for the Killer Moth and the Eraser. Needless to say, they are both on the bottom of the page and are microscopic next to the Sports section that follows it. At least Gotham State's football team may go undefeated this year. The wind picks the paper up and it flutters like a leaf in the wind, traveling through Gotham across to an expensive restaurant frequented by much of the nouveau rich and blue bloods of Gotham: The Emerald Palate. The entrance is guarded by several burly men with submachine guns because, in Gotham, you can never be too careful. At a table at the corner of the lucrative café, sits three men: Fisk, Shackley, and Volper. Or, as others may know them, the Terrible Trio.

"It is a fine day to be rich, aye gentlemen?" said Fisk

"It has been a long time since we have come to Gotham." said Shackley

"Too long, I rather like this place." said Volper

"I can't wait to go out and explore this fine city once again."

"Well, wait a little longer; our guest has yet to arrive."

"He is never late…or maybe I have spoken too soon?"

A disheveled man enters the restaurant, much to the disdain of the bourgeoisie patrons. He carries in his right hand a hat unlike a Musketeer.

"Good lord, man. At least you could have shaved before coming in here!"

"And look at those clothes; they are awfully out of the dress code for this establishment!"

"It is good to have you back, Dueling Cavalier."

The man looks down at the floor and sits down at their table.

"Please, don't call me by that name. It has caused me too much misery. Let's just get down to brass taxes."

"Ah, yes, the loan."

"It is a shame you wasted your entire family's fortune."

"Pity they did not live to see the day that it all went the way of the dodo."

The Dueling Cavalier slams the table.

"My family is none of your goddamn business! Now, am I supposed to do to get this 'loan'?"

"It's simple."

"Pragmatic."

"Practical."

"You simply have to kill Batman." Fisk quipped

"Don't you people understand? I am trying to start over! Killing people, nonetheless Batman, will not make me a better person!"

"We are not trying to make you a better person."

"We are trying to make you wealthy again."

"And, as we should know, being wealthy does not make one a 'better' person."

"Killing people is easy…killing Batman is a little tougher." Shackley quipped.

The Dueling Cavalier stares at the expensive menu set before him.

"Life, as a villain, it was never as romantic as I thought it would be. You know, just fight Batman a few times, go to jail, and fight again another day. They never tell ya the mental cost. How much time it takes up in your life. The money it takes to put on such ridiculous garb. I had it all, where did it all go to shit?

"These things require risk."

"Reason."

"Money."

"Nevertheless, it does not mean it is all for naught. Life is the pursuit of happiness, and we are willing to make you happy." Volper quipped.

"Content."

"Mutually assured."

The garcon sets a bottle of wine on the table and pours a glass for everyone.

"Oh, hell. One last time. Besides, my girlfriend just loves it that I fought Batman. She finds it incredibly sexy."

"Imagine what she would be like when you finally kill him?"

"To good health and happiness!"

"To a return to prominence!"

"To a better life!" the Dueling Cavalier said as he drank the Dom Perrignon.

He accidentally drops his fork onto the ground. He bends over to pick it up only to spot something blinking under his table.

A solitary man stands two blocks away, on a lonely roof, staring at the restaurant between a few anonymous buildings.

"If a tree falls in a forest, does it make a sound?"

BOOOOM! The restaurant explodes, shattering nearby windows and spraying debris over several city blocks. Limbs fall from the sky as well as purses, tuxedos, and everything else in between. The wind picks up many things. The Dueling Cavalier's hat cindered on the edges, bloodied, and burnt flies through the city on the wind unlike a leaf. There is a deathly silence afterwards, as if all words and sounds have been erased permanently from memory. The solitary man leaves, content in the evening's crescendo. A din of sirens blares through town. However, further through town, another solitary figure stands on top of another building, like a gargoyle watching over a Gothic church. He swoops down and glides to the crime scene. He isn't content.


	3. Ground Zero

I survey the damage, the death, the destruction. It is what I do for a living. My name is Henry Bloc, crime scene investigator. Yeah, I've seen the TV show, and I hate when people ask me that all the time. It is not like it is on TV. It is more unrealistic. No sooner than I get here then Batman does. See how unrealistic it can get? This is what summa cum laude gets in this city. Once he arrives, the other cops just sort of lay back and catch up on their lives. Talk about their lives, wives, kids, mistresses. If I would be paid for job I had to do in this city, I would get zero. He stares down at the wreckage, assessing the bodies and the damage. When he arrives, I realize my work is done, but I stick around anyways. It is like watching a play or a ballet or something theatrical. Commissioner Gordon arrives on schedule. It is not everyday that a high class restaurant blows up, especially with the security that joint had. I swear, at least, out of the 6 bouncers, 2 were metahumans. How can I tell? Because one of them is still technically alive after this explosion. When I mean technically, I mean a vegetable.

"What is the count, Jim?" Batman asks.

"45. Mostly upper-class but there was a couple of ringers. The press will come by soon to see who from Gotham's elite was killed tonight. They've been biting for a story for sweeps." Gordon responds.

Without a word, Batman enters the wreckage searching for that vital clue that will wrap this case. I could never get the hang on how he can make everything seem so simple after surveying the scene for five minutes.

"This bomb came from inside the restaurant."

"How can you be so sure?"

"For starters, the epicenter of the explosion was from the back of the restaurant. No way could a missile have penetrated so deeply into here with lead doors. Second, it had to be an inside job; no place could have been hit this hard without them being stopped in front by the heavy security. Did you ID who sat at that table in the back?"

"The lab boys are still on it but from what we can tell, they were wanted criminals."

"How can you be so sure?"

"DNA points to them being the so called Terrible Trio and the Dueling Cavalier. No matter how ridiculous, their aliases were the only names to come up on our database."

"It doesn't make any sense, Jim. They have been off the radar for years but now they come back in body bags. First it was the Eraser and Killer Moth. Now them."

"It is amazing you still remember them."

"I try to remember them…for future reference."

"I also heard that Magpie had a run-in with one of her own traps during a jewel heist."

"Yes, she was too careful to allow a slip-up like that to happen."

"Spikes right through her vertebrae. It will be a miracle if she ever gets out of the hospital."

"It all seems so random. There were no known vendettas against these rogues."

"I wouldn't be able to clue you in either, Batman. There is no connection to random madness."

"There is always a connection, Jim, first you have to find the thread. But who would want them all dead? Who benefits?"

"Hey! Blochead! Stop peeping at Batman and help me here with this body!" Hatley, my supervisor, demands.

I head over to the back alley to help put a body in a bag. He was not from the restaurant, just a bum that picked the unluckiest place on Earth to sleep tonight. I start loading him into a bag and something chills my spine.

"Was he from the restaurant?" the darkness asks.

"No." I reply. "He was just a bum…"

"Is he apart of the 45?"

"What? Oh…no, no. He was just a bum."

"JUST A BUM?"

He comes over, cowl and cape and all and grabs the body bag away from me. He unzips it and reflects on the body. He feels the dead man's wrist and checks the body for harm. I've done this so many times before, but watching him do it makes me feel like a med student all over again. After a brief investigation, he turns his sights on me again.

"What were you going to do with this body?"

"Like…we do…with all the homeless bodies. We dump them."

He grabs me and shakes me like a British Nanny. I feel like I just shit my pants.

"WHERE?"

"GOTHAM DUMP!"

He puts me back down and I realize all at once what it is to meet the devil and live. Turning his back, he departs from the alley.

"What…what was wrong with the body?" I ask.

"He wasn't killed in the explosion. He was shot. Not too long before the explosion occurred."

I feel safe until he turns around to me, staring me right in the eyes.

"Who told you to dump the body?"

"Hatley…."

"If I find you or anyone else doing this again, I will come for you…in your waking hours…or in your nightmares."

He turns around the corner and disappears into the night. I feel something wet inside my pants. That's when I hear Hatley's scream and all that fear I just experienced returns to my spine. I crawl under the garbage cans and rock…and rock…and rock…

Halfway across Gotham in Arkham…

Screams and loud pleas fill the hallways of Arkham crying for a god that doesn't exist or for a feeling someone can never have. Calling for a wife they never had or calling for someone just to listen. However, not all is madness in Arkham. In a cell, the Calendar Man contently sits alone in his solitary cell contemplating the days gone by since his sentencing.

"Let's see. Tuesday, October 23rd. 10 years 3 months and 2 days since I was sentenced to live here for the remainder of my life. All I can do is count the days gone by."

A note slips into his cell.

"Oh, an admirer. I love admirers."

He unravels the note and gasps.

"YoUr DaYs ArE NUMBERED CaLeNDeR MAN. All the best. Sincerely, Joe."

He joins the chorus of screams and agonies that plague Arkham's halls calling for a warden that will never come.


	4. What about Bullock?

They call me the Batman. I just came from the Gotham dump. I usually find garbage of all kinds there: rusted weapons, syringes used for Venom injections, and bodies. Criminals have become more practical the past couple of years: instead of dumping bodies at the dump, they dump them in the river. Or try to dissolve them. Or just leave them to rot. They never think of the dump anymore. Today, after a long time away from this cesspool, I see the garbage has collected. Hundreds of bodies and, from what I can tell, they are mostly homeless. I can see it from the look in their eyes and the condition of their bodies. Some died from other causes but most were found with a bullet hole through their skull. All the same M.O from the body I found earlier. It is impossible to say who killed them but it is possible to say who dumped them here: the GCPD. Under Jim Gordon, the place has been mostly clean of dirty cops. I was wrong. This was a recent job it seems, a month at most. They were all located in two mass graves, right next to a pile of dirty toilet seats and broken toys. I check the homeless statistics to see there has been a significant drop off in the past two months. Every body I see I ask the same questions to myself. How could I be so blind? Was it because of my limitations of being only human? Sometimes I wish I could be something more, to become the omniscient night. There is only one thing left to do: make things right.

I shake down a few low-level GCPD investigators before I get the signal. They knew nothing, only that the order came from someone on top. And the order was that all homeless were not to be handed over to the coroner after the initial crime scene investigation. It would be logical to deduce it would be Jim Gordon, but that would be a misstep. Jim Gordon is the only man besides Alfred that I trust in Gotham City. He is the closest I ever had to a father. To distrust him would destroy my foundations. It would be like blowing up the Batcave and pissing on the ashes. The only name that comes to mind when they mention the "top" is Harvey Bullock, a good cop known to make some bad decisions.

I arrive to see Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock next to the Batsignal. I hide in the shadows before I feel it is right to come out.

"Why do we have to bring in this freak, Commish? The GCPD can handle this situation on its own!" Bullock rants.

"Do you think every GCPD officer has first hand knowledge of every rogues' methods in Gotham? That is one thing you cannot learn at the academy." Gordon responds.

"I trust them more than having some lunatic in tights running around acting like an officer!"

I've had enough of this conversation.

"I'm here, Jim." I say from the darkness.

I exchange the cloak of anonymity for one of visibility.

"Good to have you with us, Batman. Let me bring you up to speed. One of the guards in Arkham found Calendar Man trying to kill himself in his cell. Somehow he managed to find a way to slit his wrists and use the blood to write a message on his cell."

"What did it say?"

"There was a lot of smearing. We couldn't make out most of it but from what we can tell, he says that someone is after him. We found this note in his cell. We think it is from the person who has been killing the rogues."

I look at the note to notice the calling cards of an amateur madman. Letters from various magazines and newspapers used to create a threat or uneasiness in its recipient. But, that name. Joe. Who could it be? Joe Chill back from the dead? Could it be an alias? No one is that stupid to write their own name on an incriminating note. But who would want to kill Calendar Man? A man who has been in Arkham as long as I remember and, at best, a nuisance to everyone else. The wanton killing of homeless, the death of old rogues. The puzzle pieces still do not fit.

"The clearest part of his message is that he wants you to protect him."

"If he wanted to kill himself, why does he want me to protect him?"

"Apparently he thought this was the only way to gain the attention of the guards."

Calendar Man. Still not the brightest criminal mastermind out there.

"Did he say who I have to protect him from?"

"He wouldn't say. He's been quiet ever since they found him near death. They still have him hooked in critical at Arkham's medical ward. Probably you will have better luck getting something out of him."

"Are there cops protecting him now?"

"Of course."

"Whoever this is, they will do anything to kill Calendar Man. Set up cops around Arkham. I will be there shortly."

I am about to take off when a stubby hand grabs me from behind.

"Hold it, freak. The only people to give orders around here are either me or the Commish. You have no jurisdiction here." Bullock demands.

I grab his hand and throw it off my cape.

"As far as I know, Bullock, you are in no condition to make decisions."

"What are you insinuating? That I'm a dirty cop?"

"No. I am insinuating that you cut corners with the coroner."

"Is this about those homeless bodies you have been pushing my guys about?"

"If you won't tell me who has been doing it, I will have to find out from more of your 'guys.'"

"Oh? Why do you think it came from me? Just because someone means the top you have to point the finger at me? Personally, I think it cleans up the amount of paperwork and the bodies that keep on filling up the morgues every time one of those freaking Crises come around!"

I try my hardest not to punch him square in the jaw but my id triumphs. He falls to the ground—hard. I can see the surprise and anger on his face as he wipes away the blood. He gets up in an intense fit of rage, reaching for his gun, but Gordon steps between us like a referee at a bloody boxing match.

"That's enough! I will not have infighting on my watch! Bullock, we'll talk about this later. Batman, any GCPD officer who has not been sending homeless bodies to the coroner will have to answer to me. I will not have this incompetence on my watch."

Just the words I expect to hear from Jim Gordon. Without a word, I dive into the night. I have missed too many opportunities to catch this murderer. This time, I will make sure not to. Before I leave, I hear this amongst Bullock's cries for my arrest.

"How can you give so much control to this madman?"

"Because he is the only person in this crazy town I truly trust."

Knowing this, I feel safer. I head off into Arkham like Dante entering into Hell.


	5. Arkham Unleashed

Arkham…I still do not feel safer here with the increased security. In a house full of madmen, it is difficult to pinpoint who will try and kill Calendar Man. As I walk through the halls, a hush falls over the inmates like some crippling fear. But it is not fear. It is the silence that is the most horrifying thing in Arkham. That is when you know something is not right. I walk into the medical ward to see Calender Man, whose real name is Julian Day, hooked to a few IV's and resting on a hospital bed. He twitches a bit as I approach him but it is not the fear of me. He sounds weak.

"Hello… Batman. What brings you… to Arkham on such a fine… day?"

"Why do you want me to protect you even if you were trying to kill yourself?"  
"I…didn't mean to kill myself. I just needed to attract the attention of the guards. So much screaming here they tend to zone it out. I just need you to protect me..."

"From who, Julian?"

"You're the detective, you figure it out."

The thing about the rogues I face is that, even when on the brink of death, they will not give me the satisfaction of giving up any names. Even if they are the names of the people trying to kill them. Today, I am tired of their games. I rip one of his IV bags off and dump out the remaining blood. I find various chemicals around the ward to create my special blend of sodium pentothal, or truth serum for the non-scientifically inclined. What makes mine so special? It hurts—a lot.

"I don't like to do this, Julian, but I need to know who is trying to kill you."

He tries to fight it and I can see the pain in his face under his façade of calmness.

"You know, Batman, there is a reason I never wanted to escape here. It was always so safe. So serene. But now I see the insanity in this place. The horror. I want to go, Batman. I want to be free. It isn't safe here anymore."

He is rambling; I need to get him focused.

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because it is a code of honor among criminals. We keep each other's identity to the death."

"You still hold onto that ridiculous idea when this person is trying to kill you?"

"There are some things you will never understand about us, Batman. Sure, some of us have ridiculous gimmicks but beneath that there is something much deeper that only we can understand."

"So this isn't a GCPD officer doing this?"

"Now that would be telling. Besides, the clues were all over the crime scenes."

"Like what?"

"Something so small that even the mighty Batman could miss them."

I think back at the crime scenes. What could this clue be? There was nothing out of the ordinary…and that is possibly it. Something so ordinary that it would be missed.

"He left his calling card all over the place but I will not tell you what it is. I have too much fun watching you squirm."

"If you are so secretive about him, then why does he want to kill you?"

"Because I am worthless."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything. Look beyond us, Batman, beyond the gimmicks. What are we in the grand scheme of things but pawns in an eternal game of chess?"

I hear the sound of numerous doors opening. I try to dissuade the worst in my mind but it is never that case. I peer out of the medical ward to see something has gone awry. All of the cell doors are open.

"He'll do anything to get me. Anything. Do you see that now?"

I turn to the guards.

"GET CALENDAR MAN OUT OF HERE!"

The doors to the medical ward start to buckle as I try to brace them with my own body. The alarm did not go off so the doors had to be opened electronically from the inside of Arkham. The guards and the doctors place anything and everything they can get their hands on in front of the doors. Free from acting as the door's lock, they take Calendar Man from his bed and try to hold the IV's. The never-ending frenzy of inhuman groans and screams continues at the door. There is no telling whether the killer is among all of these madmen. Each one of them most likely a killer of someone else but they are not the ones I want. I turn to one of the doctors.

"IS THERE ANOTHER WAY OUT OF HERE?"

"There isn't any!"

I check to make sure. The windows are barred, possibly electrified. Check. There are no other doors except for those into operating rooms. Check. The main doors have over a hundred maniacs trying to come in. Check. There is only way out of here. The main doors.

"EVERYONE STAND BACK!"

The doors splinter. Furniture falls towards me. Over a hundred maniacs against me, a few guards, a couple of doctors, and a fellow rogue who has not seen any action in a decade. It almost seems unfair. I ready my utility belt as the insane hordes come in full force. I look back to my training, everything else comes easy. I'm ready.

The first wave straggles in. Most are already weary from being the first to claw in. I take out a few smoke bombs and toss them towards the front. They are easily disposed of in their erratic attempts to get to me. I toss a few at each other and they topple like a sandcastle. Whoever planned this made sure that all of them would be heading towards here. Even if I use all the batarangs and smoke bombs in my utility belt, there will still be more floors in Arkham that would try to get in here. Worse, the floors that contain my most nefarious rogues like Zzasz or Joker. I cannot take them all down. If I do, I will not have enough strength to take Calendar Man into safer havens. I search for a break in the steady stream of madmen as the second wave approaches.

It takes all my strength to take care of this wave. There are too many that are too fast and too strong. They aren't weary like the first wave was. I tie many up and the guards club the rest. It is too much. I would not be able to withstand a third wave. I see a break in the second wave. I grab hold of Calendar Man and run off, dropping my last smoke and flash bombs to clear my path. I look back to see the bodies of the doctors and guards that restrained Calendar Man. All sulked down to the ground like ragdolls. I head down the stairs and think of everyone else in that medical ward. The doctors and the guards…they are all dead. I couldn't save them. There were just too many…too many…I try to think of how I could have failed them when a large blunt extinguisher slams me in the back of the head. I fall and lose all of my muscular control. The pain is searing. I try to look up in my hazy view to see Calendar Man looming over me.

"The mistake you made Batman was to still protect me even when I was doomed!"

From the hazy view I can see that he is running on a disjointed plane. I try to walk but my legs do not work with me. I see him in the corner, stopped, frightened like a deer in headlights.

"Hello, Joe."

"Trying a last desperate attempt to avoid the inevitable, Julian?"

He doesn't answer.

"Why did you bring, Batman, Julian?"

"He just came, Joe. I couldn't help it. He won't bother us."

"Never mind. Did you mark this date on your calendar, Julian?"

"Yes…yes I did."

"Then you know it is your time to die."

"Yes…"

"The one day you never wanted to occur…"

"Everyday is inevitable."

"Agreed."

BLAM! Calendar Man drops to the floor, his skull blown wide open and his face blown off by the high caliber magnum. The same gun as…he runs off. This is no time to lose focus. I chase after him. I hear more guards rushing up the opposite staircase, containing the pandemonium in the medical ward. Down the stairs and through the courtyard I follow him to a beat up Volkswagon Beetle. He drives off, past the wide open gates. I spot the license and cue up my car. He isn't getting away this time.


	6. The Killer Revealed

My VW purrs like a kitten. Still smoking after all these years. Oh, hi. I'm the killer and currently Batman is on my tail. No matter. He always doubted me. Everyone has. Him in his Batmobile and me in my pathetic little Beetle. You would think the odds would be stacked in his favor. That is what they always think.

I take out some loose "change." The certain kind of change that sticks to any surface and explodes. I toss nearly ten of them out the side. I look out my rear view mirror to see the fireworks begin. Cars topple and flip, trees become flowers blossoming with flames, gasoline ignites in a surge of hellfire. The street shatters from the weight of the explosions, throwing concrete everywhere. It is so beautiful, like a pandemonium pageant of synchronized violence.

I do not wish to kill Batman. He is worth too much to this city. That is what the other villains never really got. You can never liquidate an asset that still has lots of money in the bank. No one can kill him no matter how much effort they put into it. They can never kill him like I can never get an erection anymore. You see, that's why my wife left me. I just could not please her anymore. I could never please anyone. My mother. My father. My friends. No one ever took me seriously. I just have to slow him down. I am not finished yet. No, far from it. There is still much more destruction to do this night.

But no matter the destruction, the Batmobile comes in, no trouble at all. One of these days I will find out how that happens but it is best not to dwell on it while it is charging right at me. I don't linger on that thought long as I toss more change, more precisely at the Batmobile. I know it will not kill Batman because he has enough worth in this town to pay for an ejection seat. To make sure he does not tail me anymore, I head up to the expressway.

On there I see all the cars of all the worthless people in this town. A minivan filled with destroyed hopes, a truck of lost love, a limo of elongated ego. The saddest part is that they just don't know they are worthless. Luckily, I am here to show them. I reach for some change.

Suddenly, a loud thud hits the roof of my car. There is only one person in this town who could do that after seemingly being blown sky high. His arm punctures the roof and goes straight for me. I try to control the car as he clutches my face like a steering wheel. My car breaks through the highway's barriers and travels steadfastly down…straight into the abyss.

Briefly my exploits flash before my eyes before my car slams down to the city streets. The brutality, the senseless mayhem. It still wasn't enough. The airbag cushions me as I fall. I look up to see a gaping hole in my roof. I open my glove compartment and reach for my final act of this evening: a switch.

I clutch the switch in my hand when he pulls me from what used to be my car.

"Who are you?" he asks tersely

"Who am I? Surely you must remember me! You remember all of your rogues…but, alas, I am so worthless that you have forgotten me…the Penny Plunderer. No, _Bruce_, you will remember me for now on."

I flip the switch and I know, for now on, everyone will take me dead seriously.

Gotham Police Headquarters…

Just another night in Gotham. More paperwork. More violence. It is never enough in this city for Jim Gordon. G-d, did I just refer to myself in the third person? Just another sign of working too hard tonight. Bullock went home early, maybe I should have too. Barbara usually stops by Tuesday nights. I think it is about time for me to quit.

I take my coat from the rack when I hear a weird ticking noise. That's odd; my clock's been dead for a week. I look around my office to see a blinking clock…with 20 seconds left on it. I sound the general alarm and run out of my office to see in the office across from me there is another one just like it. 15 seconds. The whole building must be filled with them.

10

I scream hells bells trying to make sure everyone gets out.

9

Someone stumbles.

8

I pick him up off the floor.

7

I run with him down the corridor.

6

More people come out.

5

The traffic of stampeding humans slows everything down.

4

I wait.

3

I think of Barbara and I shove with the stampede out.

2

I get outside to the steps.

1

I take one last leap away from GCPD Headquarters.

0

A large force throws and tosses me to the ground 20 feet away. My back feels like it shattered. Time slows down to a crawl. I take one last look at the broken dream of GCPD's Headquarters, slowly collapsing from the weight of multiple explosions. The flame…looks like…someone is calling me…


	7. Denoument

I am a ghost. Drifting listlessly through the Gotham streets staring at what was my doom: Gotham Police Headquarters. I stare at my body and the other bodies lined up near mine. Ambulances pull in like a stampede of gazelles. One of them spots an unconscious Jim Gordon and they take him to Gotham Hospital. Just one of the few to survive. I feel emo just looking at it all that I try to stare away. The fire is what draws me, like some sorta proverbial television program.

Something draws me from the destruction to a different scene all together. I don't know what drew me, some larger hand in the grander scheme of things, but this grand hand had to show me a "conversation" between Batman and some guy. Wait, the name just came into my head, The Penny Plunderer. He's smiling at Batman and apparently has an ace in hand…as well as a switch. A remote detonator really…the one that destroyed Gotham Police Headquarters. I should feel angry here but all I can feel is indifference. So? I'm dead. It is not like Batman strangling the life out of the guy will make me miraculously come back with Captain Taylor, Elvis, and all those other poor worm ridden suckers. I watch.

"How do you know my name?" Batman says very lightly.

"You know that Giant Penny in your cave? The one you thought belonged to Two-Face for so long…you forgot that encounter we had? I had it to trap you and then you came in…"

"Cut to the chase."

"Well, let's just say, that penny had something so small you, the great omniscient Batman, would never notice. Just like the pennies I left at every crime scene. A camera."

"Why put a camera in it when you were trying to crush me with that coin?"

"Because I heard on the grapevine that you were collecting items from various crime scenes either it is Scarface or costumes of ex-partners…"

Batman tosses the Penny Plunderer onto his car like a ragdoll. He gets up laughing it off.

"Touched a nerve, huh? I wonder how you will react when I show you what I just did…"

He tosses the detonator to Batman and he examines it.

"What did you use this for?"

"Just find the nearest TV set."

Batman walks towards the nearest department store to see it all on the screen. Gotham Police Headquarters ablaze. The monitor speaks.

"It is not clear what caused these multiple explosions but word coming in says that hundreds of brave policemen are feared dead…"

Batman stares on in horror like I did with the last image I saw…the burning building falling on me.

"Wait, we are getting reports that Police Commissioner Gordon has been taken to St. Mary's Hospital. He is in critical condition…"

"Jim…"

The Penny Plunderer stares at the screen in distress. Apparently he did want Gordon dead.

"My work is not finished, not finished!"

Batman spins around in an intense rage I have never seen any mortal man consumed with. He lifts his fist only to be met with a dart in his neck. The Penny Plunderer runs off in hot pursuit.

I wish I could tell Batman to wake up but my apparition form denies me that. Batman takes something out of his utility belt to slow the tranquilizer. He gets up with a new resolve and runs in hot pursuit.

I am drawn away again to somewhere. A chaotic place where pandemonium reigns supreme: an emergency room. Jim Gordon is lying there while dozens of doctors arguing what is the best approach to his condition. They apply to him so many things to make sure he stays out and safe that I lose track in the chaos. I do not know at what time I came here but it seems so fast. But, then, in this orgy of misdirection I see a single glint of silver. A gun aimed by The Penny Plunderer. He appears to aim so he can avoid the doctors. I try to warn them all but realize my place in this great cauldron. I am only a spectator. He sees a clear opening but something comes from behind to tussle with him. A dark visage of vengeance smacks his face to the ground, knocking him out. He stands up and everyone turns to behold the sight of Batman.

"What were you trying to accomplish, Joe? What was your goal?"

"Don't you see, Batman! I am helping you!"

"Helping? You call killing innocent people helping!"

"None of them are innocent! They only hinder your crusade on crime. That's what they never realized. In the grand scheme of things, they are all worthless!"

"That's where you are wrong, Joe. The only worthless people of Gotham are the ones that cause harm to it. People like you. You are the dregs of Gotham."

The Penny Plunderer looks visibly shaken.

"You are right, Batman. I am worthless."

He reaches into his pocket to take out what appears to be a revolver but Batman doesn't do anything to stop him. He puts the gun to his temple.

"But at least I will know that when I'm dead."

CLICK! The Penny Plunderer stares at the barrel. CLICK! CLICK!

"IT'S NOT FAIR! IT'S NOT FAIR!"

He throws the gun aside like a child's worn out toy.

"You shot too many rounds today, Joe. That gun could not hold more over the ones you used. I knew you would not be able to do it even if you wanted desperately to. I can help you. You don't need to live like this."

"But that's what you will never understand, Batman. You can never cure us. We are terminal in madness."

A shot goes right through me and right into Batman's leg. He collapses. The Penny Plunderer scurries off as I see the shooter behind me: Harvey Bullock.

"Not another move, Bat freak. You are not going to harm the Commish tonight."

Batman spins around and grabs Bullock's gun. Bullock tries to maneuver but, even when shot in the leg, Batman still has the upper hand. He knocks Bullock down with a twist of his elbow and Bullock's nose bleeds like a geyser.

"You just let the man who put Gordon here go free, Bullock. And the man who killed over a hundred people at police headquarters. And the man who has been killing the rogues and the homeless. And the man who just made you the biggest fool in Gotham."

Bullock stares blankly towards the ground, knowing that in his blindness of hatred that he lost his eyes on what was really target. They are all blind there it seems. Each man consumed by their obsessions and by their unwillingness to see beyond them. I feel less tangible, I feel like I am floating away. Some greater hand is drawing me somewhere that I do not know. This is the end for me. Goodbye.


	8. Pennies From Heaven: A One Shot

The top deck is clear. I make sure of it with the door jammed below. It is a perfect night: cool and brisk No one would believe that the Penny Plunderer was capable of this. Thwarting Batman and now about to do more unspeakable deeds with no one to stop me. I drag my bags of pennies to the top of the observation deck of the highest building in Gotham and I look out into the city. It stares right back at me.

I look at my watch. 9:23 AM. It should be rush hour soon. I sit down and open up my bags. I stare at the pennies in front of me and they stare back into my life. Each one of no value but together they add up.

9:33AM, I take the pennies out and toss them off the side.

"PENNIES! PENNIES FROM HEAVEN!" I shout.

I see them fall…down…down…all the way to the street. I hear the screams in the distance. I toss more pennies over each side of the building. I still cannot hear the screams very clearly. I toss more and more till my sacks deplete of coins. My orchestra of agony goes on below as sirens scream louder and louder. At this point I realize I have nowhere to go. So, I sit, and contemplate what brought me here today.

I was a kid once. Just like the rest of the rogues out there. I had dreams and aspirations, sure, but they never amounted to anything. My parents saw no value in being a musician. They only saw me as a bank teller, just like my dad. He never came home until late in the evening but every year he would bring me a newly minted penny and lay it by my bed as I slept. I would wake up every morning on that special penny day and add it to my collection. He once left me a note saying, "A penny saved is a penny earned." I keep that note in my wallet till today. Then, one day, the penny didn't come. I checked with my mother to see her in bed. I heard some bumping the bathroom and I walked over to my dad swinging on a noose. A chair dislodged underneath him as he sprawled on the bathroom mirror with toothpaste "Bankrupt." Apparently my father was fired from the bank the previous day for being a part of an inside job to swindle money from it. In the police report, they said it was in a fit of insanity that he did this.

My mother remarried soon after that to a man named Tellson. He and my mother were deeply in love. I wouldn't have been surprised if they were seeing each other as my dad busted his ass every week for feed money. With her "new" love, my mother did not have time for me anymore. Neither did Tellson. I would go home to an empty house everyday and stare at the pennies my father gave me. Then one day they did not come home. I never found out what happened to them. I stared deeper into the pennies…they must be worth something. I tell myself this over and over again. In school, they called me crazy because of my obsession. I ignored them. Pennies were all that was left.

I lived in that house without anyone realizing I lived there. I was a ghost in the city. Years past without anyone saying a word about the boy living alone in his parent's house. If they did, they just said I was crazy. It was enough to scare anyone away. I tried my luck in being a musician but it never worked out. I could never afford an instrument. Everyday I was in an empty house…alone. Only me and my pennies. I was the only one who saw the value in them.

It was easier in those days to become a criminal. I first did it because I needed to eat but then it became a habit. Back then I didn't kill anyone. It was simpler and fancy free. I came up with the penny gimmick as everyone seemed to just challenge Batman from moths to erasers. Mine would be pennies. My obsession. My calling card. I was going to make a name for myself in this town right up next to Two Face and Joker. A penny was going to be worth something in Gotham City.

And each time I fought with Batman, I lost. Just like all the other rogues. However, like the other rogues, I listened about what Batman was up to next. When I heard he was collecting things from crime scenes, I used my life savings to make a giant penny with a microscopic camera in one of the eyes. When I was defeated by Batman, like always, I went back to Arkham to await the live feed from where Batman lives. I saw it. I saw it all. And like a child that knows what his presents will be for Christmas, I was disappointed. Bruce Wayne? A petty playboy defeating the Joker and me on every occasion? It took all the fun out of being a villain. I cut the feed and decided, this time, to stay in Arkham, locked up in frozen time. I forgot I even had the tapes.

And through time, Batman forgot about me too. I took this as a step to reform. I got out of Arkham but it took a long time to settle down. I did odd jobs for a while and lived in a halfway house. It isn't very easy to find a job with Arkham on your resume.

On one cold night looking for a job in Gotham, I found a beautiful girl named Tesa and we got hitched a few months later. I still do not know how lucky I was that night. She was a beautiful woman with all the right curves and all the right things to say. We had the best times together. I remember one time we walked the Gotham bridge in order to catch a bus on the other side. We missed the bus but we still managed to make it to the restaurant but by the time we made it there, we had already had all the laughs in the world. And then there was me, a puckish little oaf that could have played Mr. Mxptlyk in a stage show. I will never know how I found her. With her contacts, I managed to find a job at the GCPD and everything was fine for a while.

That was until my old habits came back but much, much worse. In my moments of frustration, I shot homeless people on the street. Each one like a penny, worthless. I managed to make sure these bodies were never investigated by having GCPD deputies forwarding them to the dump. I don't know why I felt the urge to murder but it came like an instinct. Something I had to do just like going to the bathroom. I would come home every night depleted and would find little time for Tesa. I would stare at the pennies my father gave me…and sink into the abyss.

That was when I could no longer please Tesa. Everyday I would feel a distance between us. I knew she was seeing other people but I could never go up and confront her about it. I just stood in the background in my house and sat at my corner cubicle at work. Then one day Tesa too was gone. No word. Just loneliness and an empty house were the only things she left. I started killing more and more homeless. I did not know what compelled me. It felt very cathartic. Was it just my madness acting up again or was it an insanity that I inherited from Arkham?

Then one day, I came up with the idea. I found all my contacts, my old rogues. I made the explosives, I plotted and planned, and I made a list. I made plots and plans with no one knowing I existed. It was the perfect cover to the perfect plan to rid Gotham of its worthless inhabitants. I even tinkered with killing Bruce Wayne. One day, I took a high powered sniper rifle and aimed it right at Wayne's office with him in it. He would never suspect a thing. And before I pulled the trigger I realized that I could never kill Bruce Wayne-to do so would be to kill Batman, the worthiness man in Gotham. There would probably be others to follow him but none that could do what he does for this city. Bruce Wayne built most this city and Batman cleans it up. I realized what they couldn't: no one can defeat Batman. Even with a broken back and most of his city in ruins, he will never give up.

And then I tried to go through with the rest of my plan and I failed again. Just like in life. Now I sit here, waiting for the inevitable Batman to come here and send me away. They all said I was crazy when I tried this. To clean up Gotham. To clean up my life. To make sure I am worth a damn here. I don't see that Rosebud, the thing that made my life all the more worthwhile.

I remember when a penny was worth more in this town and then I realize it was always a penny. He arrives like a shadow in the night. This is the end for me. I stare at Gotham again… and I remember that all this time…a penny was worth nothing at all.

"Just lock me up in Arkham, Batman... with the rest of the crazy people."


End file.
